Whiskey Talk
by disneyfangirl2015
Summary: Arthur is at the pub, wallowing in whiskey over his loss in the American Revolution, when a certain nation joins him. T to be safe. Mentions of FrUk.


I **do not own Hetalia.**

His eyes lingered on the gold sitting before him. He had been sitting there for some time now, the distilled wheat burning his insides while it slid down his throat and spreading like wildfire as it entered the pit of his stomach. It dulled his physical pains, his sores and aches; but his emotional wounds would not numb. His heart was too broken. He clutched the glass of liquor in his hand and threw it back, eyes closed and wishing for the pain to be gone, before demanding another. The bartender hesitated but complied and set a full one on the bar.

That man, that spiteful and dreadful boy did this. It was his fault - all of it. He didn't need independence. Why should he want it when he had someone else to depend on, someone who made sure he had everything he needed? No. The man corrected himself on this assumption (begrudgingly too). The boy did not have freedom and that's what he wanted.

This old sot was at fault for his own downfall, not the young man who was celebrating his victory.

The sliding of a stool made him sigh, his green eyes closing when he caught a whiff of cologne - feminine, almost. "Come to laugh?" He spat, his focus immediately returning to the empty glass.

"Now why would I do zhat?" Came the accented reply.

Green eyes turned to meet his new companion. Covered in black head-to-toe, a deep sorrow hid within those sapphires. It didn't distract him from his anger, however. "Because frog, I lost everything to you! It isn't fair!" He raised his voice only to garner a sad smile.

"I took nussing from you, mon cher." A foreign hand reached out but the drunk swatted it away. "Am I zhat terrible?" It was more of a joke than a serious question.

"Yes!" Came Arthur's retort as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Oh?" A smile played on the Frenchman's lips. "Perhaps I should help your ozher-"

"What are you even doing here, Francis?" The English speaker questioned, turning up his nose, his head heavy. "Don't you have a woman you could be porking or-"

Choked laughter came from his partner. "Porking? My, such innocence. No, I'm actually seeing someone."

"I never took you for a monogamous man."

"Well, I don't believe in adultery." There was a sigh shortly after and bushy brows narrowed in concern. "It's nothing. I just...really like our conversations."

"You're an idiot." The Brit jested, his emerald eyes resting on the empty glass again, this time in confusion. "What made you do it? And don't say you don't know what I'm talking about because you do. It's the reason I'm drinking. It's the reason you're here. The reason we're having this conversation. So why?"

There was no immediate response but Arthur knew his partner was thinking of an answer. "It's been awhile since we've last spoken and…I almost feel guilty."

England finally faced France, turning his whole body, and grabbing the nation by the collar in fury. "'Almost'?" He snapped with whiskey breath. "Look what you did! I lost so much...so much because of you, stupid idiot!" Something wet touched his cheek. Was he crying? "My little brother wants nothing to do with me and it's all your fault." He sniffed before falling into his fellow's chest, burying his face.

The Frenchman wrapped his arms protectively around the sobbing man, kissing the top of his head. "He is grown and his demands for freedom were understandable. Be mad at me if you like, but don't forget where zhe true blame lies."

"An old habit that never ceases." The former croaked.

"Neither does zhat tongue." The Englishman felt his face heat up and he gripped the man's top, taking a handful of black cloth into his fist.

"Sh-Shut up, wanker!"

A deep laugh left the Frenchman's chest, shaking Arthur. "What do you think I meant?"

Arthur shut his eyes and pushed himself away from his comrade to ask for another drink. His throat has gone dry. "Not what you're thinking."

"Oh my." Francis said heartily as he slung an arm around the nation. "Do not worry, Britain. I'm not interested tonight." He waved a hand to gain the bartender's attention.

"I figured as much."

"You are?" Arthur snorted, trying to lie but his rosy cheeks gave him away. "Even if I was, you've been drinking." Francis gave a smile as he was handed his own liquor.

The couple fell into silence, listening to the background music, the audience drinking and making private conversation. Arthur listened as two glasses were slid across the wooden bar, one appearing in front of him. It was the usual. He snuck a glance at his comrade and laughed. Of course the man would demand something sweet.

"What?" Questioned said nation.

The Englishman smiled lightly and threw back his head, his throat on fire as the gold-filled glass followed him. As it returned to its seat on the bar, he answered. "It's only whiskey talk."

 **This started out so good and then I just ;-;**


End file.
